


Unhinged Mother

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [58]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bipolar Disorder, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Older Man/Younger Woman, Size Difference, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: (Y/N)'s mother makes an unexpected midnight visit that leads to violent family drama.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Kudos: 5





	Unhinged Mother

It has been a particularly difficult and tiring week for the Rickman family.

On Monday, they received a call informing them that Amelia's nursery and Alyson's kindergarten will both remain closed for the week as there was a lice outbreak at both schools and that the places need to be fumigated.

(Y/N) thought she could juggle working fulltime from home while entertaining both girls, but the task proved to be more difficult than what she anticipated.

Dropped calls, missed emails, unanswered student requests, and screaming children in the background of her video conferences made Alan decide to put a pause on his upcoming stage directing gig at the West End for the week to stay home and help with the girls.

On Tuesday, things went fairly better. Alan and (Y/N) would split shifts watching and entertaining the children when (Y/N) wasn't needed for work, and after work, the family would put the children in their prams and head towards the garden square for a park outing.

Lovely.

That is until dinner time came around and both young girls were fed up with being in the company of their parents the whole time. As soon as the sun sets, the girls would start acting out, screaming, ignoring requests from both parents, and run around the house like lunatics on heroin.

Not to even mention the fact that they would refuse to eat at dinner, crying during bathtime because they were obviously hungry, then crying when they needed to go to bed because they were overtired as well as hungry.

And so, the hellish cycle repeats for Wednesday and Thursday.

Oddly enough, (Y/N) received an upsetting phone call from her estranged bipolar mother one of the days, although she cannot recall when. Her mother and father recently got divorced after all the past abuse from her mother re-surfaced.

Her father was devastated hearing for the first time the detailed events that took place between mother and daughter almost twenty-four years ago.

From the age of seven, (Y/N)'s mother would physically abuse her daughter, hitting her with wire hangers until her young flesh started bleeding, chasing her around the house with a butcher's knife while threatening to kills her... One time during school holidays, her mother beat her so hard and she cried out so loudly that the neighbours, two houses down the street, called child welfare services.

They paid a visit, but upon recognizing (Y/N)'s mother, they didn't believe (Y/N)'s allegations, saying that her mother would never be capable of hurting her child. They gave the young teen the following advice: "maybe next time, don't scream so loudly when you get a beating you clearly deserve."

That crushed her. She felt as the eldest of three siblings, it was her duty to protect her brother and sister from her mother's abuse and helped by taking up their load of punishment, too.

All of this happening while (Y/N)'s father was away at work. When he came home and she tried to tell him about her abusive day, he would always sigh and tell her that he didn't want to hear it and that he had a tiring day at work. At age fourteen, she stopped trying to get his attention and went with the tides, accepting the abuse because she thought she deserved it.

Although she had a horrible childhood, she still managed to obtain top marks at school, aced every exam with flying colours, received a scholarship to attend the Central Saint Martin Univerity of the Arts in London, and managed to graduate _summa cum laude_ for her diploma, Master's degree, and PhD. At thirty-one years old, she now has a small family of her own.

That same small family of hers that was now being followed by said estranged mother. On two occasion they happened upon her at the garden square, her mother claiming to be in the area, although she lives in Kent which is a good fifty-minute drive away.

Alan having knowledge of everything that happened, and being very protective over his wife since hearing the news, kindly asked her mother to stay away from them or else he will call the authorities. And so she did. For the past two days, they haven't seen or heard a peep from her, which brings us to the end of the tiresome week.

It is just past ten on a Friday evening when both parents finally manage to put their two little girls to bed. The two toddlers have been long overdue for a nap since lunchtime. As if they were feeding off the tense energy of the past week, the two sisters have been unnecessarily challenging today.

Alyson would not stop crying - it seemed as if nothing could please her today. Her breakfast porridge wasn't to her liking, nothing that (Y/N) offered her to drink was something she had wanted, she didn't like the colour of her plastic plate at dinner, and nothing on television could distract her. Not even her beloved Paddington was helpful enough in soothing her today.

Amelia, on the other hand, would not stop throwing things. At all. At breakfast, she threw her sister's uneaten porridge across the kitchen which Alan spent thirty minutes cleaning up, she threw Peter Rabbit into the sink when no one was looking, the poor stuffed animal teetering on the verge of the garbage disposal. She managed to knock one of (Y/N)'s favourite vases off the television stand, leaving cactus thorns and gravel to be scattered all across the living room carpet. She even managed to throw a wooden car so hard that it hit Alan in the face, causing his nose to bleed. She was just plain angry today.

It's safe to say that both (Y/N) and Alan are completely battered, bruised, and spent after today. The two worn-out adults have quick separate showers before literally falling into bed dressed in their comfortable winter pyjamas.

Alan covers them both with the thick white comforter, before pulling his wife's thick body close to his form. He breathes her in as he stares down into her chocolate brown eyes, his grip tightening around her waist.

Holding her is like therapy for him - she makes him feel safe, grounded, relaxed.

"What a week," (Y/N) breathes, burying her face in the crook of his fleshy neck, inhaling his scent.

He smells of aftershave - cardamom and cloves, leaving Alan with a spicy, sweet scent that gives him a seductive and pleasant quality. She absolutely loves his smell. Especially right after a shower.

She revels in the feeling of his warm body pressed tightly against hers, his strong arms holding her. Her earlier stress and anxiety escape her as her beloved husband holds her safely.

"And we haven't even hit the weekend yet," he sighs, wondering what fresh hell the remaining two days have in store for them.

They spend the next hour few hours in the dark of their bedroom being intimate. Not sexually intimate, just intimately close - holding each other, talking about everything and nothing, and just being in the moment with each other.

"Oh, God, who can _that_ be?" Alan groans, looking back at the digital clock on his bedside table that shows it has now reached exactly midnight.

"Just leave it, I'm sure they'll go away if no one answers," (Y/N) grumbles on the verge of drifting off into sleep, tightening her grip around his waist.

"I'm just afraid it might wake the children," he whispers before placing a kiss on the top of her head, squeezing her tighter, his eyes also fluttering closed.

Another ring.

"Bollocks," Alan untangles himself from his wife, throwing the covers off of him, as he makes his way towards the bedroom door.

"Be back in a second," he whispers back to his wife.

"Hm," she sleepily reaches for his pillow, clutching it against her body.

He keeps his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor in fear that it, along with the loud ringing of the doorbell, might wake up the children.

It's at times like these that Alan wishes they had a peephole. Cautiously, and slightly irritated, he opens the front door at a sliver. 

"Dana?" He exclaims surprised upon seeing his mother-in-law still dressed in her light blue dressing gown, the soft yellow light from the outdoor light above the door making her look frail and sickly.

"Oh, Alan, you have got to let me in. The bugs are positively eating me alive out here," she complains, hands swatting at her head.

"There are no bugs, Dana. What do you want?" He insists, his blood now boiling through his veins.

"Please, I promise, I won't stay long. Let me just explain," she pleads, trying to wiggle herself closer through the crack of the door like the louse that she is.

_Explain?_

What could she possibly explain? Yes, alright, maybe hearing an explanation from her might help (Y/N) come to terms with the fact that her mother always had it out for her.

Alan, veering on the side of caution, reluctantly opens the door against his better judgement.

He steps aside, allowing her to step into the toasty foyer. He turns around after locking the front door, only to be met with Dana's fist against his large, already crooked, nose.

As he clutches at his bleeding schnoz, she bolts past him towards the stairs.

"I have to tell her! You cannot stop me! This is my house, you cannot stop me!" She screams as her loud footsteps stomp up the wooden stairs.

Immediately, Alan's thoughts are with his children, scared that they will wake up and witness this... whatever _this_ is.

He runs after her, grabbing her wrist just as they come onto the first landing.

"You're not going near her. She has had enough of your abuse," he sneers down at her, squeezing her wrist.

"Ow! You're hurting me! You'll kill me!" She screams maniacally, hitting at him with her free arm.

He lets go of her wrist, only to use his body and arms to block her from going up the steps further.

"She is my daughter, you monster. You can't prevent me from seeing her!" She tries to push past him with her frail body.

"It's already past midnight, Dana. If you need to see her, you can call in the morning," he utters through their struggle.

"Ow! OH MY GOD!" He screams, trying to pry her loose from where her teeth are attached to the fleshy part of the back of his bicep.

Why the fuck is she biting him? Has she completely lost her mind?

In a flash of anger, he uses his forearm to pin her against the wall, pressing against her throat.

It is at this point that Alan has to restrain himself from throwing her down the stairs. A million possible scenarios swarm his mind as he tries everything in his power to protect his small family. What he really wants to do is throw this woman over his shoulder and throw her outside, but the fact that she had back surgery not too long ago, is the only thing that is preventing him from doing it.

"You... Are... Hurting... Me," she gurgles through strangled breaths.

He swears he won't choke her to death, but he sure does hope that this position will allow her to feel some sort of torture similar to what she put her eldest daughter through.

As she still struggles through strangled breaths, Alan hopes Dana can't hear the pattering of little feet run across the wooden floorboard two landings up.

" _You_ are hurting your own _daughter,_ can't you see that?!" He sneers through gritted teeth at her, trying anything in his power to overpower her but also trying not to scare his children.

"You are the one hurting her. I need to get her out of here!"

"Mummy, wha's happening?" Alyson runs into her mother's dark room with fear spread across her tiny face.

"Shhh, darling," (Y/N) rushes towards her as she puts her finger over her lips, closing and locking the door quickly but quietly.

Ever since she heard the commotion downstairs, (Y/N) has been sitting stock-still in bed, frozen in fear. When she heard Alyson's bedroom door creak open, her maternal instinct took over and she immediately rushed over to her.

"Mummy, I scared," Alyson starts to cry weakly.

"I know, darling, I am too. Mummy doesn't know what is going on," she picks a crying Alyson up, sitting with her in her lap on the large king-sized bed.

She soothingly rubs the back of her daughter's head, trying not to panic. She doesn't switch the overhead light on, and instead opts for the soft glow of the table lamp, in the hopes that it won't entirely wake up Alyson. Not that there is a chance on earth that any of them will be able to sleep after any of this.

"You are utterly delusional, old woman," Alan shouts at Dana's earlier statement.

With both his arms occupied, pinning her up against the wall, Dana uses her flailing arms to throw punch after punch against his stomach and chest. She manages to slap him against his face, leaving his ears ringing and a red print to form on his ageing skin.

He clutches at his cheek, blood still trickling down his nose from her earlier sucker punch, as he watches her run towards the main bedroom door.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), baby, open the door for mummy!" Dana frantically twists at the doorknob, banging on the door with her other hand.

"Mummy!!" Alyson screams out in fear as she sees the doorknob turning, the wooden beams shaking from the force.

Anxiety ridden and with Alyson still in her lap, (Y/N) reaches for Alan's phone on his bedside table with shaky hands, dialling 999.

"Emergency services, which services do you require?"

"Hello? Yes, I need the police right away!"

Try as she might, she can't help the shake in her voice as she tries to remain calm, mentally preparing herself for all the questions she's about to answer.

"Thank you, go ahead caller, you are through to the police, what is the address or location of your emergency?"

"135 Talgarth Road."

"(Y/N)!! Mummy's not going to hurt you. I want to _help_ you," another bang, another shake of the doorknob.

(Y/N) screws her eyes shut, memories from decades ago resurfacing. She secretly wretches inside hearing her mother refer to herself as _Mummy._

"135 Talgarth Road, in which area, dear?" The operator's voice brings her back to reality.

The lady on the other end of the line sounds quite old. Late sixties, maybe. Very sweet, and very compassionate. _Bless her_.

"Hammersmith, West London. Hurry, please."

"And what's your name, sweetheart?"

"(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). No! I mean, Rickman. Sorry, it's (Y/N) Rickman."

She's not in her right state of mind. Her mother has always known how to push her buttons. Just like tonight. She can feel the knot in her stomach starting to tighten, the lump in her throat causing her to teeter on the edge of an anxiety attack.

But she has to stay strong. For her children. For Alan. For herself.

"Alright, (Y/N), what is the nature of your emergency?"

She can hear her mother loudly screaming her name on the other side of the door asking her to open up.

"My mother has just turned up at our house and she's kicking off."

"Do you share the house with your mother?"

"No, no, I share it with my husband and our two little girls."

"Alright, and is this altercation happening inside the property?"

"Yes, ma'am, it sounds like she pushed past my husband and is now inside, trying to smash our bedroom door down."

"And where are you right now? Does anyone require medical attention?"

"I am inside our bedroom, the door is locked---"

"Mummy, I scared," Alyson cries out again, clutching at her mother's sleeping top, as Dana crashes her body against the door.

"I know, Bubba. Mummy's scared, too," she holds her child tightly, covering her ears, as tears roll down her cheeks.

"(Y/N), is your daughter in there with you?"

"Yes," she sobs, "Yes, she's in here with me."

"How old are they? Your girls, what are their names and how old are they?"

"Uhm," she breathes through her tears, "A-Alyson, she's four and Amelia is two."

"And which one is with you?"

"Alyson, the oldest. Please hurry!"

"And where is your other daughter, Amelia?"

"Oh, God. She's still in her room..." She croaks, ice-cold blood running through her veins at the realisation that her baby is still out there.

Heaven help her if Dana grabs hold of her little girl.

"Alright, just stay calm, dear. As long as your mother keeps banging on the door, you can be sure she's not with your other daughter. Do you or anyone else require medical attention?"

"I-I'm not sure. My husband cried out twice earlier, I'm not sure if he's injured."

"Your husband is with your mother?"

Another loud crash causes mother and daughter to jump in the dimly lit room.

"Mummaaaa!" Alyson cries, trying to hide under the covers but staying close to her mother.

"Yes! He went to open the front door for her and he is now out there with her trying to prevent her from coming into our bedroom."

"Dana, you have got to stop this nonsense! You are scaring everyone. Think about the _children,_ for God's sake," Alan calls out over the loud yelling coming from the estranged woman.

He can hear his wife's muffled talking on the other side of the door. Although he can't hear the conversation, he is certain she has rung the police.

What worries him, though, is the scared crying coming from Alyson within the bedroom. The poor child must be terrified. As long as Amelia stays inside her room and doesn't come out, they'll be alright.

"Alright, can you tell me exactly what is happening?"

"Uhm, I'm not sure. We've been having altercations with her all week where she would follow us out or run into us coincidentally at the park. She has been calling all week, asking to see the children..."

(Y/N) proceeds to tell the operator as quick as she can about the backstory of her relationship with her mother.

"...She rang the doorbell a few minutes ago when we were all already in bed. I heard my husband yell and then a scuffle on the landing of the stairs. My daughter ran into the bedroom and that's when we locked the door and called you."

"Okay, can you tell me your mother's name and date of birth?"

"Dana (Y/L/N). I know it's August 28, but I don't know the year."

"How old is she roughly?"

"Uh- I don't... Like, in her late fifties?"

The distinct click of the doorknob sets Alan's greatest fear in motion. Standing between Dana where she's banging on the main bedroom door, and the children's rooms, he turns just in time to see a crying Amelia waddling out of her room with Peter Rabbit clutched against her chest.

A split second passes where Alan and Dana lock eyes, Alan debating whether he should kill Dana and then grab Amelia, or grab Amelia before killing Dana.

She was about to lunge towards the small tod, but Alan is faster and quickly hoists her up, clutching her against his chest, her small face resting in the crook of his neck.

"Give me my little girl, you monster!" She demands, rushing towards Alan.

"I'm not the monster here, Dana. Take a look at yourself, woman!" He shields the back of Amelia's head with his large palm as he tries to rock her to a calm state.

"You're right," Dana's demeanour changes instantly to calm, slightly frightening Alan. "You're right, Alan. Damn (Y/N)."

Her voice has now changed to a distinctively lower octave as she tries to manipulate her way, "Damn your wife, let's raise these babies by ourselves. Just you and I. These are as much my little girls as they are yours," she holds her hands out to a screaming Amelia.

"I've always fancied you, Alan. Let's make our fantasy a reality, darling."

"You've gone completely mental," Alan breathes in disbelief, his eyes wide with fear.

"Darling, you have to listen carefully, does she have any weapons with her?" The operator's voice pulls (Y/N) back from where she is shocked to hear her mother's words on the other side of the door.

 _Oh, God._ She never even thought about that. Panic sets in as she thinks about how this situation could end.

"I know she has access to my father's safe and he has multiple handguns and rifles. Oh, God, I don't know if she brought any with her," he breathing starts to pick up as she presses Alyson's head against her chest.

Amelia's agonizing cry from outside the door is gut-wrenching.

"Oh my God. I think she just hit my baby!!"

Indeed, being defenceless while holding their baby, Alan couldn't prevent Dana's punch in time that lands on Amelia's back. He hears the breath getting knocked out of her tiny body before she proceeds to cry out in agony. And rightly so.

"Darling, stay calm--"

"Are the police coming?! Are they on their way??"

"Is she hurting Melly?" Alyson's concerned little voice whispers as she stares up at her mother with large chestnut eyes.

"Yes, we have two units making their way to you as fast as they can, they will be there as soon as they can. As long as your husband is with your daughter, she will be okay."

"Oh, God, I hope so," she sobs.

Another few punches fly Alan's way as he turns his back on Dana, trying to shield a screaming Amelia from her wrath. All he wants to do is carry Amelia downstairs, out of harm's way, but then he leaves Dana upstairs all by herself, able to break down the bedroom door.

"Melly!" Alyson shouts out at hearing another screeching cry coming from her younger sister.

As Alan has his back turned on Dana, a stray punch still manages to hit Amelia in the face where her head is peaking out above Alan's shoulder.

"Hurry! She's beating on my baby and husband!"

"Has she done anything like this before, (Y/N)?"

"O-only to me. As a child. Not since I've been married, no."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart. Can you make out anything that she's saying?"

"She... She's just saying how she wants to talk to me and how none of this is her fault... I-I can hear the sirens."

At the first sound of the sirens approaching, Alan rushes down the dark stairs towards the front door with a screaming Amelia clutching at his chest. He leaves Dana upstairs, knowing that she won't manage to break into the room in the short amount of time it will take the officers to reach her.

He opens the door, one arm in the air, the other gripping his daughter.

"I'm not armed! I'm not armed!" He shouts above Melly's crying as he comes face-to-face with five uniformed officers who have their guns drawn on him.

"Sir, hand the child over, keep your hands above your head!" They demand harshly.

He does as he is told, reluctantly letting go of his baby who is now crying even more as she's being handed over to a stranger. They pat him down hard, making sure he has no weapons on his person.

"I pose no threat. The person attacking my family is upstairs."

One officer stays outside with Alan and Amelia as the other four make their way into the dark townhouse with their guns and flashlights.

"Alright, darling, don't leave the room until the officers ask you too, alright?" The operator instructs (Y/N) over the loud banging of the door and shouting of police officers.

"Oh my... Okay, okay, I won't."

"Okay, you have done really well, (Y/N). I will leave you with the officers now."

She says her goodbyes to the operator before the line clears.

"Alright, sir, we are going to need your statement now," the police officer holds a screaming Amelia out to Alan in the hopes that he will be able to calm her down.

Alan gently takes her from the officer, rocking her against his chest while whispering sweet nothings into her ear. A few seconds later, she's calm enough for Alan to relay his version of events.

After the officers clear the dark downstairs area, they make their way up the stairs to where the loud banging and shouting is coming from.

"Ma'am, step away from the door!" One officer calls out, pointing his gun in Dana's direction.

"This is _my_ house, you won't tell me what to do!"

"This is not your house, ma'am. You are in fact trespassing. Put your hands where we can see them."

The officers slowly approach guns still drawn, as Dana continues to bang on the door.

"They've got me surrounded, (Y/N)! Mummy's in big trouble, baby, please open the door and help me!" She pleads hopeful.

After assessing that she appears to carry no weapons, the officers close in on her, at first pulling her away gently. After she decides to resist arrest, two officers tackle her to the ground, pinning her on the hardwood floor as they zip tie her hands behind her back.

"You are hurting me! Get off of me!"

"You are hurting a lot more people here tonight, I'm afraid, ma'am."

They lift her off the floor and drag her downstairs, out the door.

As a last hoorah, as she passes by Alan, she spits in his face causing the officers to shove her roughly into the car.

"Ma'am, it's safe to come out now," the one officer who stayed behind upstairs, calls out to (Y/N) after he makes sure his partners have put the crazy lady in their patrol car.

She wraps a shaking Alyson in a blanket before picking her up and slowly unlocking the bedroom door.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you," she cries as the police officer wraps his one arm around her and Alyson, guiding them out of the room on legs that feel like jelly.

"Everything will be alright, ma'am. Your husband's downstairs, you're free to see him," he soothes, leading them safely down the stairs.

"Oh, Alan!" She cries as she spots him and Amelia at the front door, talking to the police officer that is taking his statement.

"Darling," a lump forms in his throat as he sees the distress clearly etched onto her face.

He hates seeing her like this. He knows what happened here tonight will haunt her for months to come. Not to even mention the children. Perhaps they had a forefeeling for what was about to happen tonight, hence their acting-out today.

"Mum-ma," Amelia lifts her head from Alan's shoulder, showcasing the slightly purple bruise above her eye.

"Oh, my baby, are you alright?" She lifts her child's chin to try and see clearer under the dim yellow outdoor light.

"I think it's better if we took this inside," the police officer suggests, escorting the family of four inside, leaving the other officer stationed outside the front door.

"I think she might have wet herself," Alan whispers to his wife, indicating to Amelia's wet footie pyjamas.

"Excuse me, officer, I'll be back shortly."

Alan carries Amelia upstairs into the nursery, setting her down on the changing table where he runs a warm soapy cloth over her, before changing her into a fresh set of pyjamas. 

Alyson eyes the officer in the dark as they sit next to each other on the sofa, (Y/N) scuttling around in the kitchen, busying herself with making tea for the officer. 

The older man feels her chestnut eyes staring frighteningly at him and smiles down at her, "Cute bear you have there," he attempts, poking the stuffed animal in the stomach. 

"Is a bunny. Peter Rabbit," she corrects him.

"Is it yours?" 

She looks away to see her mother still making tea in the open-plan kitchen. She turns back to look up at him, "Is Melly's. It has pee-pee on it now." 

"Oh, I see..." The officer's lips cast downward in a sad motion. 

_Whatever happened here tonight, must have been terrible for the children_ , he thinks to himself, tumbling his thumbs together shamefully.

He politely stands up, taking the tray with tea supplies from (Y/N) as she enters the living room on shaky legs, sniffling. 

Just then, Alan makes his appearance with a yawning Amelia. After switching on a few floor lamps in the otherwise dark downstairs, Alan and (Y/N) swap the girls out as they settle themselves on the large tan leather sofa, the police officer on the tan armchair adjacent from them.

"I'm sorry, officer, do you mind terribly if I breastfeed?" (Y/N) asks shyly, heat spreading up her cheeks, as a fussy Amelia won't stop tugging at her top.

She knows her girls - when they're distressed, Amelia only wants _boob juic_ e, while Alyson wants to be held by Alan, wrapped in her special blanky.

"Oh, no, of course, go ahead," he responds politely, holding his notepad and pen in hand to start taking down their statements and note any injuries.

"Here," Alan hands her the blanket that Alyson was previously wrapped in before reaching behind the sofa for the blanket basket, pulling out Aly's special cream blanket.

She drapes the blanket over her shoulder, lifting her sleeping top while positioning and covering Melly so that the babe can latch onto her without being exposed.

As she allows the tod to suckle at her, Alan places Alyson on his lap in a sitting position facing him, positioning her in such a way so she can lay with her front against his chest. He wraps her snug in her blanket before she rests her head on him, her eyes never leaving her little sister, but slowly fluttering closed.

"Right, now that everyone is settled, I'd like to note the injuries that occurred tonight."

The officer proceeds to write down and take pictures of Alan's bloodied nose, bruised chest and back, the purple bite mark on the back of his upper arm, and the slap against his cheek.

He also takes note of Amelia's bruised eye area.

What shocks both parents, is the angry black bruise now forming on baby Amelia's back and shoulder of when Dana accidentally hit her instead of Alan.

"I'll kill that bloody woman," is what Alan mumbles lowly to his crying wife, careful not to let the officer hear him.

EMTs arrive on the scene to help with Alan's nose bleed and bite mark, making sure that he won't get infected or worse... get rabies. Who knows what diseases that woman could carry.

They check both children over, clearing them, but suggesting that the girls seek counselling for weeks to come.

Alan and (Y/N) both express that they do not wish to file charges against Dana, but that they do want her to undergo a psychiatric evaluation.

After all the commotion is over, the red and blue lights disappear off into the distance, and all the people clear out of the house, Alan leads his wife and children back upstairs.

"No, Daddy, I sleep with you," Aly cries sleepily as Alan tries to place her gently down in her own bed.

It doesn't take much to convince Alan. He knows his children are traumatized by tonight's events, so he picks her sleepy form back up and carries her out into the hallway.

"No luck with Melly either, huh?" He raises an eyebrow at his darling wife as she makes her way out of Amelia's room with the babe still being rocked in her arms.

"No," she sighs heavily.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he nods into the direction of their shared bedroom, locking the door securely behind them as they enter.

He lays Alyson down gently in the middle, next to where (Y/N) places Amelia before both parents climb into bed on opposite sides of their children.

Luckily, they're not sprawlers, so Alan is still able to reach across them, laying his arm over his wife's thick waist.

"I never asked how you're holding up," Alan whispers to her in the dark after she switches off the bedside lamp.

He hears her sniffling and can only imagine the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I- I was so scared, Al," she whisper-sobs.

She feels the bed dip as he places pillows as a barrier on his side before walking around to her side, crawling into bed behind her. He envelopes her body from behind, burying his face in her hair.

"You're safe now, darling. You're safe, I'm safe, and most importantly, the girls are safe," he soothes while running his fingers up and down her supple arm in a calming manner.

"I know," she breathes.

"I'll call the security company tomorrow and have all the locks inside and outside changed," he starts in a whisper.

He knows what she needs now more than ever is to know that they will remain safe.

"Thank you," she gives a soft smile in the dark, cuddling closer to Amelia.

"And I'll notify the schools about the incident and make sure they know to be on the lookout for her," he continues.

"Oh, God... I never even thought about that. What if she tries something there?"

"She won't," Alan reassures, "I'm most certain that tonight's episode was just a psychotic break. In my heart, I know that she couldn't help this. I saw the look of horror in her eyes when she realized she had hit Amelia."

"But still, Alan..."

"Look, we've filed a police report, so it is on record. They know about it now and they'll be on the lookout. If it will ease your mind, I'll station security details outside the nursery and school, and I'll make sure you have a security detail at all times when going out alone or with the girls."

"We need to see about getting the children some counselling first thing in the morning. I can't imagine the nightmares they'll have."

"And you," Alan reminds her gently.

And he was right.

The early hours of the morning went by with the girls waking up every hour, riddled with sweat, screaming from a nightmare. Not only the girls but (Y/N), too. On multiple occasions that night, he felt her twitch in his arms, mumbling out her mother's name.

The whole event left the family scarred. The girls didn't transition into their own rooms until six weeks have gone by, having attended play therapy every day. (Y/N) has only now, two months since the incident, being able to go outside with a calm mind, not looking over her shoulder after she also attended much-needed therapy.

Alan has decided to put an indefinite hold on his upcoming play to spend as much time with his wife and daughters, savouring every breathing moment with them. 


End file.
